


A Study In Pink: The Archon And The Spy

by Viridis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (pretend of course), Bull plays Hissrad, Chains, Dorian plays the Archon, Love, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Slavery, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridis/pseuds/Viridis
Summary: A study in pink with clichés.Or: Dorian and Bull are role-playing.Oh dear...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for (rough) sex, pretend sexual slavery, and syrupy fluff... 
> 
> As usual, my endless gratitude goes to [Fen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan), who graciously beta'd this story, pointing out mistakes and providing suggestions. You are the best! (Sorry to put you through so much smut, hehe.)
> 
> Enjoy, folks! :)

In this particular tale…

...the Archon is sitting in his rosewood chair, sipping ruby red wine, and inspecting the new Qunari body slave with keen, cold interest.

”Well, well, well,” the Archon says, and his eyes narrow. ”A Ben-Hassrath.”

His voice is velvety and slow, almost gentle. The Qunari knows the voice is a lie: this man is anything but gentle – but the captive is curious, so he dares a quick glance, and despite his situation, despite everything, he has to admit the Archon is… impressive.

He is still young and devastatingly handsome; quite a bit taller and definitely more muscular than most mages the Qunari has seen. He has caramel-colored, shimmering skin and silver eyes, and he is wearing robes so black they must be woven out of darkness itself, so deep any other black looks grey next to them. He is adorned with delicate gold jewelry: sparkling rings, earrings, and bracelets shaped like snakes. He smells of exotic oils. He looks gorgeous, and he looks dangerous.

The Qunari wants to take down the man before him, and sure enough, he could break that pretty neck like a twig, but he is not stupid. Many things he may be, but not stupid. The Archon sets his bejeweled goblet on the side table.

”I can't even tell you what a _pleasure_ this will be.” He grins lustfully and shows too many white teeth. ”A Qunari and a spy, for me to deal with however I please. What do they call you?”

The Qunari bites his lip and growls. The Archon pulls the shiny chain attached around his neck.

_”What do they call you, slave?”_

”Hissrad.”

”Hissrad,” the Archon repeats, tasting the word. He lets his pale, lined eyes glide over the Qunari's massive, muscular body. ”My, my but you are big. About eight feet tall, I am guessing... and strong as a bull. I wonder if you are this big everywhere.”

Hissrad keeps his eye on the floor. On the edge of his vision he sees the mage's black satin slipper, adorned with tiny dark crystals. The Archon shifts his position slightly; the crystals flash and sparkle in the firelight.

”Show me.”

Hissrad hesitates, but what can he do? He is a slave in the Imperial Palace filled with guards, and the mage before him is powerful enough to fry him in an instant. He opens the string keeping his loin cloth up, and lets his only piece of clothing fall. 

_”Oh!”_ the Archon gasps.

The Qunari keeps staring at the floor. He knows what is coming, he knows why he is here - and it is so humiliating. If only there was a way…

The Archon gets up with a graceful movement and walks up to him. Hissrad gets tense and closes his eye, and then he feels cool, soft fingers touching his cock. He inhales sharply and shudders. Oh, he hates this, he wants to end this – but then the damned Archon steps even closer, and he can sense the heat of that fragrant, slender body. The gentle hand wraps around him, and squeezes. A moan escapes from Hissrad’s mouth, and he gets hard almost instantly.

”Well,” the Archon laughs, and it is like silver bells ringing. ”Would you look at that… it is eager.”

The mage keeps on rubbing Hissrad's erection, slowly, slowly, and Hissrad can feel the man's breath sweeping across his chest. His legs begin to tremble. The hand disappears. Hissrad opens his eye and finds himself looking the Archon in the face. He is, indeed, very handsome. Hissrad feels his mouth getting dry.

”Undress me, slave.”

The Archon spreads his arms. Hissrad hesitates for a moment, then obeys.

The robes are luxurious but simple, without the complicated buckles the Tevinter mages usually favor. Hissrad pulls open a couple of smooth strings, and just like that, the robes open up, and he can see how under all that menacing black lies a sea of warm, silken, golden skin. Hissrad tries to ignore it. He removes the robes, folds them carefully, and sets them on the chair nearby.

The Archon lifts his foot. Hissrad pulls off one slipper, then the other one; the man's feet are graceful and delicate, his toenails are painted with the same sparkling black as his fingernails. He is now wearing only soft, thin pants and his jewelry. The Qunari can clearly see the muscles of his upper body, all shiny and toned.

Hissrad swallows and turns his eye.

”Is it such a dreadful duty,” the Archon whispers, ”to satisfy this body?”

Hissrad can't answer, or rather, he doesn't want to. He avoids the mage's gaze and brings his huge hands on the laces of the black pants. He opens the knot and pulls the laces loose, yanks the pants down a bit –

There: a small glimpse of shimmering fabric. It is silk. It is soft. It is... the loveliest shade of pale, cool dawnstone pink, rosy and innocent against the midnight black and the gold of sensual skin.

Bull stops breathing. He stares, his knuckles go white, his eye bulges out. He is growling.

”Uh,” tries the Archon.

Bull grabs him, scoops him up, and throws him on the bed, face down.

_”Hey!”_ Dorian screams, trying not to laugh. Bull pulls off his pants, all the way, collapses between his legs and presses his face on the smooth, pink fabric. His hard hands rise to cup Dorian's cheeks.

”What are you doing, beast?” Dorian attempts to kick him, no avail. Bull rubs his face all over the silky underthings, and his hands keep on kneading and squeezing the firm muscles under them; he is growling again, low and non stop.

”Oh, for Maker's sake – Bull, stop!” Dorian tries to move up, gets denied. ”Bull!”

The Qunari bites his backside sharply. The mage squeals.

”Bull, amatus, I know you love pink but this is ridiculous!”

Dorian is right: Bull does love pink. He loves pink, he loves silk, and above all he loves Dorian's ass, and he is _not_ ashamed. Bull moves up and begins to grind against Dorian's backside, panting heavily.

”You planned this,” he hisses. ”You knew what would happen, Dorian.”

The mage tries not to giggle.

”Get back in the role!”

”I am gonna get in _you!_ ”

Bull gasps, as the invisible force pulls him up, twists him around, and presses him on the mattress. He stares at the ceiling wide-eyed, stunned.

”Ooooh,” he says and grins, breathless. There was a time when Dorian using magic on him made him nervous, nowadays he loves it. 

The Archon bends over Hissrad, grinding his teeth.

_”How dare you!”_ He leans closer, their faces almost touching, and slaps the Qunari lightly. ”You will pay for this, slave!”

Hissrad closes his eye. 

”Um, mercy, master.”

The Archon takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He sits on the side of the bed.

”So, Hissrad, tell me, why did you come to Tevinter?”

”To… spy.”

”And what did you find out?”

”That the ruler has a magnificent ass.”

The Archon slaps him again. Hissrad, or Bull, rather, smiles, but gets something else to think about, as the Archon strikes like a snake and bites one of his nipples. Hissrad jumps. The Archon purrs.

”Here,” the mage says, ”is what we are going to do: I am going to remove this force field. And you _will_ behave, or you’ll find yourself in a pretty predicament. Do you understand?”

”Yes, master.”

The Archon lifts off the magic, and the Qunari sighs with relief.

”Sit up.”

Hissrad does. The mage climbs on the bed, supports himself against the pile of decadent pillows by the headboard, and spreads his legs slightly.

”Your mouth,” he says.

Hissrad gives the Archon a panicked glance. He can't possibly mean – but of course he does. That's why Hissrad is here; to satisfy the damned Archon's lusty curiosity, to take care of his bodily needs, to yield to any perverted whim he comes up with…

The Archon pulls the chain. Hissrad falls on his hand and knees, and suppresses a furious growl creeping up his throat. 

”If I have to repeat myself...” The mage’s voice is so full of cold threat that Hissrad is moving even before he realizes what he's doing. He lies down between the Archon's legs, lifts the muscular thighs on his shoulders, and stares at the blush pink fabric. It doesn't do much covering wise, he can clearly see the line of the mage's erection.

What kind of a ruler wears pink smallclothes, Hissrad wonders, disapprovingly. Still – it looks nice, and he has to admit the man smells lovely. He inhales and closes his eye. Then he sticks out his tongue and licks the underside of the hard shaft slowly, from bottom to the top. The silk turns into transparent film under his wide tongue.

The mighty Archon lets out a small whimper. It is not a very dignified sound, but it is a damn cute one. Hissrad smiles and begins to kiss the smooth, brown thighs around him, sucking and licking till the mage is squirming. He turns his attention back to the silky underthings and slips three of his fingers underneath, gently stroking the coarse hair.

”Take them off,” the Archon whispers, his voice not stable anymore. Hissrad obeys immediately and throws the underwear somewhere on the floor.

”So,” the Archon says, trying to gather himself, and spreads his legs a bit wider. ”What do you think, beast?”

”Not bad for a human,” Hissrad says. This earns him a kick in the back by a delicate heel, and a good yank from the chain.

”Tell me again.”

Hissrad stares at the rigid member, mesmerized. It is beautiful: smooth, even, impressive – also eager and impossibly hard. He swallows.

”It is the prettiest thing I have ever seen.” Hissrad lets his rough hand glide on the Archon's thigh, around his marvellous bottom, up to the silk of his toned chest and shoulders. ” _You_ are the prettiest thing I have ever seen.” He takes the mage's hand and kisses the elegant fingers. ”The prettiest hands...” He reaches up a bit and kisses the flat, warm stomach. ”The prettiest body...”

The Archon flushes: a lovely rosy glow spreads on his golden face and chest. Who knew a man like that could blush?

”Get on with it, Qunari.”

Hissrad glides his mouth back down until his lips meet the tip of the beautiful cock. He swirls his tongue around it, slowly, teasingly, tasting the pleasant saltiness, and finally sucks it in. The Archon hisses.

”Oh – _oh_ but you are good with your mouth!” The mage arches like a bow, his fingers wrap tightly around the Qunari's horns, his skilfully painted toes curl. ”I may have you do this every – oh _fuck_ – oh fuck yes -”

Hissrad closes his eye and continues pleasing the Archon. The humiliation is almost too much, it is awful - yet that is not the worst part: the worst part is the shameful, overwhelming desire he is suddenly feeling towards his tormentor. He wants to desperately bury himself in that gorgeous ass.

The Archon pulls Hissrad’s head up, off the iron-hard erection. The Qunari opens his eye and looks at the mage. The man is panting and his eyes are black with lust, his hair is falling across his face. 

”There's oil on the night stand: prepare me.”

Hissrad feels a shiver going through his body. The Archon wants to _bottom?_ To be fair - most of the humans adventurous enough to get involved with Qunari do. But he didn’t really expect the ruler of the nation to submit that way - to a slave, no less. 

_Well_. If that is what the Archon wants, that is what the Archon will get - whether he can handle it or not.

Hissrad covers a grin and picks the small, sapphire blue glass bottle. He pours some golden liquid on his palm, coats his fingers and glides them between the Archon's cheeks; then, very gently, he pushes a finger in. The mage gasps. Hissrad bites his lip, slightly worried suddenly. What if he, indeed, hurts the man and gets punished for it? That in mind, he prepares the Archon ever-so-slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on any signs of discomfort on the man’s face - but all the Archon does is moan softly and look absolutely ecstatic. Once Hissrad gets the third finger in comfortably, the mage grabs his wrist and stops him.

”On your back.”

Hissrad obeys immediately. He is so achingly hard, he wants the cursed Tevinter so bad he would do pretty much anything. The silk of the sheets feels blessedly cool against his sweaty skin, but he doesn’t get much time to revel in the sensation, as the Archon straddles him unceremoniously, presses smooth thighs against his sides, and takes a firm hold of his throbbing cock.

“Let’s see about that famous Qunari stamina, shall we?”

The Archon sets the tip of Hissrad’s length against his well-oiled opening; then he sinks on it with one long, painfully slow slide, as if he had done it a thousand times. They both let out an involuntary cry. 

Hissrad gasps for air, almost sobbing; the man is so tight, so hot, so _incredible_ – the mage pulls back up, then lowers himself back down again. Hissrad feels light-headed, like he is about to pass out just from the intensity of it all.

_“Fuck!”_

He swallows and stares at the Archon, mesmerized by the enticing shifting of the firm muscles under the shimmering skin, as the man moves on top of him. Hissrad’s trembling hands find the narrow hips and wrap around them, instinctively taking over the rhythm: he holds the mage still, and begins to thrust into him - first slow, then harder. The Archon moans and his head rolls back, and then Hissrad just can't take it anymore: he growls in frustration, flips the mage on his back, and restrains his hands. The Archon squeals.

”Fasta vass! You - _beast!_ ”

Hissrad sinks his teeth in the Archon's throat and snarls.

”Qunari stamina, huh?” He slams deep into the warm body, and gets a helpless cry out of the man. ”I'll show you Qunari stamina, mage!”

The Archon laughs out loud, but his cackle turns quickly into wailing, as Hissrad begins to fuck him with hard, steady thrusts. And oh, it is marvelous; the way they move, the way their bodies somehow fit together perfectly, despite the size difference - and then just fucking isn't enough anymore. The Qunari lets go of the mage’s wrists, and entwines their fingers together.

“Dorian,” he says, his voice so low it vibrates through both of them. The answer is immediate, barely a breathless whisper.

_”Amatus...”_

Bull shudders, finds Dorian’s mouth, and kisses him hastily.

”Kadan - sweetheart -”

It is all an intoxicating chaos from there on: entwined limbs, hot mouths, gray skin on golden skin. Bull kisses Dorian over and over and slows down, not wanting to hurt his lover. He can do pain - he can definitely do pain and enjoy it - but suddenly he is feeling overwhelmingly tender. The mage lies under him, eyes closed, soft lips trembling, and Bull looks at him, and his heart swells.

Just like Dorian, he has never had this before: this connection, this aching, this feeling of belonging. And although it took a long time, he is not uncomfortable to call it for what it is: love. Dorian has always been looking for it, knowing that actually finding it would be unlikely; Bull never did, didn't understand, even less dreamed of such thing, being raised in a society where romantic love doesn't exist. They found it nevertheless. And now they are in a place they can't imagine being without each other. 

”My beautiful boy.”

Dorian, always craving for praise and endearments, opens his eyes, hazy silver and devastating, and it is all Bull needs. He can feel his orgasm rising, bright and relentless, and as Dorian arches and cries under him, he peaks, and it is like a thousand suns exploding inside him.

 

***

 

Afterwards it is way too easy to lie in each other's arms. Bull runs his fingers through Dorian's messy hair. Dorian, who has curled up on his wide chest, keeps on showering little kisses on Bull's collar bones.

”Do you think any archon has ever worn pink underwear?”

Bull laughs.

”Doubt it. They would go for black… or maybe red. With snakes and spiky things.”

”Such a Tevinter cliché.” Dorian smiles fondly and rubs Bull's shoulder. ”You want another cliché?”

”Hit me, Vint.”

”...I love you.”

”Aw,” Bull grins and kisses Dorian’s gorgeous nose. ”He _loves_ me.”

The mage, adorably embarrassed, rolls his eyes.

_”Efutue, caudex!”_

“The language!” Bull tuts. He brings his huge hands on the mage’s bottom and squeezes; Dorian pinches his pointy ear, hard. Bull wails. ”Mercy, Master… mercy!”

The mage groans and begins to properly swear in Tevene, but his protests are muffled by a hard, possessive kiss - and then he is flipped over and pinned on the mattress once more.

“Just for the record, you little asshole,” Bull mumbles, “I love you too. _A lot._ ”

“Of course you do, you insufferable savage, I deserve it.”

“You do.”

Bull can feel Dorian smile against his lips then - and if there is a nicer feeling in the world... well, he certainly wouldn’t know about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Vocabulary: 
> 
> _Efutue, caudex!_ (latin) - fuck off, blockhead (lit. “block of wood”)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, comments/critique/kudos/whatever have you are more than welcome! <3


End file.
